


they walk amongst us (but in silent ways)

by dragoncreek319 (orphan_account)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Episode: s03e08 The Battle of Starcourt, F/M, Gen, Hurt Steve Harrington, later in the fic tho, steve and Jonathan friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25383604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/dragoncreek319
Summary: It’s over. It has to be. The Battle of Starcourt, aptly dubbed by Lucas (or was it Will?). Steve knows it’s over. That maybe now he can go home, take a much needed shower and sleep. But not yet. He hates it, when it all catches up with him.
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	they walk amongst us (but in silent ways)

**Author's Note:**

> They walk amongst us, but in silent ways,  
> spreading peace and love without any praise.  
> When thunder roars and lightning strikes in rain  
> they watch over us, healing bleeding pain.
> 
> Yet we do not see their celestial light,  
> nor do they shed feathers within our sight.  
> Happy to hide behind unknown faces,  
> empathy guides them to deprived places.
> 
> Heal and soothe, they prevent tears from flowing,  
> touch our hearts to leave our spirits glowing.  
> From Sydney to London, Rome to Bombay,  
> provide moments that take our breath away
> 
> Their acts of grace form a ripple effect,  
> kind gestures that help people to connect.

The lights flickered, and Steve flinched. _God_ , this day could not get worse, but with his luck the universe would somehow manage. A huge ‘fuck you’. That’s his life now, every day. He looked around, seeing if anyone else had noticed, if anyone else was arming themself, if anyone else was _fucking readying themself to die_. Wondered if he’d be able to move on. If ten years from now, twenty years from now, he’d be plagued with nightmares of the Starcourt Battle. Nightmares of monsters that absorbed humans, nightmares of- _shit._ Nightmares of Russians punching him repeatedly. A blow to the face, a fist to the stomach. He suddenly couldn’t stand. The lights flickered once more.

”It’s not th..that _thing_. Just the electricity,” Jonathan placated. _Of-fuckin’ course_. As always, Jonathan Byers to the rescue. Rescuing strangers, rescuing the kids, rescuing Nancy. Jonathan Byers somehow managed to one up him in every way possible. He was suddenly reminded of the massive, _massive_ headache that had supposedly been there all along. Steve wondered whether Jonathan's voice being the trigger was a coincidence. Of course not, that was stupid, just like him. Stupid like believing Nancy had ever loved him, stupid like thinking he could beat the _Russians_ , stupid like an elephant. _What?_ He was definitely still high.

“Is that the police?” Will pointed towards the sky. Lights (glooooowy) were approaching in their direction. Red, blue. Red, blue. Yellow. Or was it white? Steve couldn’t tell from this distance. He squinted, or tried but his eye throbbed even more, pulsating, like it wanted to pop out of his skull. He decided not to do that again.   
  


“I don’t think so. The scientists, maybe?” Nancy, _perfect_ Nancy shouted over the increasing din of the helicopters. _Keep it down_ , he wanted to say.

”Keep it down,” He said in a voice that was too low and too filled with pain to be heard. Steve leaned down, one hand on the tarmac, and sat. Fell, really. He looked at Max, crying into El’s shoulders. He feels like he should be crying too, but doesn’t know why. Will is. Dustin is. He thinks he even saw little fireball Erica’s eyes glisten. _Erica_. _Dustin. Robin._ They’d all gone without food and water for over 24 hours. Over a day. 

“Dustin,” he called out. Feebly. “Dustin!” He raised his voice this time, hoping it would catch the kid’s nosy ears. He chuckled. Dustin tried to make everything his business.   
  


“Why are you laughing?” Ah, so he _had_ heard. Hadn’t Dustin been far, faaaar away? Like 200 metres. Was that far? Was he still high? _Yes. And yes._ How was Dustin somehow crouching over him, his face close. Too close.

”Nothin’. You guys eat yet? Had water?”

”Oh, yeah. Me and Erica had some nachos. And biscuits.” That wasn’t enough, not nearly. “And all that coke too.” Steve sputtered.   
  


“Coke?” He asked, unbelievably. Nun-uh. No way. These kids were way too young.

”What? _Oh_ , no not _cocaine_!” He said, as if he was the one being unreasonable. Well, shoot him for thinking the worst. He rested his shoulders on his hands, leaning back, eyes closing of their own accord. Steve breathed. _In._ Evil Russian doctor with a bone saw. Evil Russian doctor with a bone saw and Steve’s finger in it. _Out._ Evil Russian injecting him with something, terror rising in his throat. Screaming. _In-_

“You okay?” Steve nodded. Or at least he thinks he did. “Steve?”

”Mh-hm.”

”You guys eat? Drink?” Concern laced Dustin’s voice. Steve didn’t like it, not one bit.

”Mm-hm.”

”Come on, I need an answer.” He answered, didn’t he? “Steve!” A slap. That woke him up.

”Oh god, what’s wrong. Who died?” His eyes flew around frantically. Oh, Billy. Right. _Riiiight._

_”No on-_ I mean, obviously - Robin? _Robin!_ ” Robin? What was going on. He got up to his feet and tried to follow Dustin’s blurry footsteps. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Pink, like cotton candy. Fluffy, like the clouds. He looked up, bright lights were getting brighter. Sound was getting louder. He moved forward, every step shaky and, and _achy_. Yeah, that’s right. Maybe. His stomach protested and his stupid eye wouldn’t _stop_ watering. He tried to rub it, maybe that’d shake it out. 

Pain shot up through his skull and into his brain. Piercing and aching all at once. He removed his hand and stared. Red, dark in the moonlight. He sluggishly moved forward, remembering something about Robin. His feet sent jolts to his stomach and his ribs ground against one another. There wasn’t a part of his that didn’t ache. His hair, maybe.

He spotted Robin in the ground, a small crowd around her, and rushed forward. Everyone except El and Max were looking at her. Even Erica, who had claimed not to care about any of them was now staring, sadness pooling in her eyes. Robin’s skin was flushed and sallow, her lips cracked, blood leaking out. Jonathan’s hand held him back. He tried to protest but his arms didn’t move, no matter how hard he willed them to. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Erica asked, hugging herself.

”I.. I-“ Then, like a lightbulb went off somewhere in his mind Dustin answered. “She hasn’t had food or water in over a day.”

”What?” Nancy and Jonathan echoed each other’s sentiments.

”Plus, the drugs,” Dustin added. 

”Evil Russian doctors. Bone saws,” Steve slurred, completely sincerely.

” _What_ is he talking about?” Perfect Nancy asked. Hey, ‘he’ was right here.

”Long story. Looooong,” Steve told them. They weren’t believing him, why weren’t they believing him? Jonathan grabbed his face, somewhat forcefully. “Hey, look,” he beckoned Nancy. Steve wondered what was so important now, more important than Robin _on the ground._ Jonathan’s finger motioned towards his one good eye, while Steve struggled in his grip. Nancy nodded as if she understood. _What?_

On the ground, Lucas did the same. “Hers are red too.”

”How are you guys _still_ high?” Erica questioned.

Steve wanted to answer with he wish he knew. But. His head pounded harder than before and both his eyes were watering this time. He thinks it’s called crying. He’s not sure. Steve doubles over, catching his aching ribs and stomach in his arms. He wished they’d fall off. Or something. Someone is saying something and someone else is shouting. He wishes they’d shut up. _Please_. The loud sounds make his head hurt worse and the pain feels fluid now. Transferable. From one place to another, but he still aches all over. His eyes are squeezed shut and he thinks his brain is melting. A loud shuttering sound is coming from above, coupled with the _whoosh_ of the wind. He moves his hands to his ears. Even though his eyes are closed and his ears are covered, the world seems brighter and louder than ever. He crouches on the road and screams.

He screams louder than he ever has. And then he cries, his eyes leaking involuntarily. He thinks he’s in the real world, but he’s not sure. So he lets go. It doesn’t matter anyway. He lets the world pass him by and he lets the dark envelop him. He thinks it’s Jonathan’s arms he does it in. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, look at me, starting another fic without completing my others. Well *gestures at everything* here you go? Do leave a comment if you liked it. Hell, leave one even if you didn’t. I’m comment starved. (PS: that poem isn’t mine, just found it online without any source stated)


End file.
